


GypsyTale

by PurrfectStories



Category: Glee
Genre: Acceptance, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bandits & Outlaws, Boys In Love, Brothers, Drinking, Falling In Love, Fluff, Homophobia, Hostage Situations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, Kidnapping, Kings & Queens, Love/Hate, M/M, Princes & Princesses, Protectiveness, Robbery, Romance, Royalty, Smut, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrfectStories/pseuds/PurrfectStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is second in line to a throne he never wanted, to a kingdom that doesn't want him. Blaine is an outcast looked down on by even the lower class and leader of a group of bandits that plague the kingdoms. An ambush brings them together and their unlikely connection sets them off on a life changing adventure. FairyTale!Klaine w/ Prince!Kurt & Gypsy!Blaine (Smut in later chapters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fairytale!Klaine fic with gypsy!Blaine and prince!Kurt.
> 
> I was inspired by Blaine's proposal speech, you know the part where in every lifetime Kurt and Blaine choose to come back to each other? Well, this could be one of the lives!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> No beta. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of it's character's. I'm not affiliated with anybody nor will I make any profit from this story. I own absolutely nothing and am just humoring my own insanity. I don't know or own the actors that portray these characters. Everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Glee, Fox and anyone else that has patent over Glee and it's characters. Hope I covered everything I don't own.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen and the Stablehand.

(Prologue)

 

In another time, and in another place, where those of royal blood ruled the lands, there lay a small kingdom. The bloodline that ruled this kingdom was the Hudson royal family, a monarchy that was kinder than most and crueler than others. Their land was not as vast, and their citizens did not outweigh the other neighboring empires by any means. There was no need to conquer and there was no need to wage war. The Hudson family managed to keep the peace between their many nearby kingdoms, and they lived amongst one another in harmony.

 

The citizens of the Hudson kingdom adored their queen and they loved her son, the young prince who would one day become their king. But the kingdom has not been safe from all tragedy. They've experienced grief and loss just like any other, Queen Carole especially who lost her husband to illness before their little prince could grace the world with his presence, and the citizens wept for their kind-hearted queen. She mourned her husband for years to come, the responsibility of reigning over her people and raising a fatherless prince all on her own weighed on her greatly. Her citizens were glad she at least had Prince Finn to bring her happiness though, the little boy being all that was left of their deceased king.

 

Luckily, the world was kind enough to give the queen another chance at love. A love that the citizens never expected, Queen Carole had a whirlwind romance with one of the Hudson family's stablehands. That man was Burt Hummel, a lower class laborer who knew his way around just about every type of horse. He was a well-respected man in the lower quarters of the kingdom, someone who easily broke up bar brawls with his intimidating stature yet still managed to be a gentle giant when it came to his son, Kurt. But like Queen Carole, Burt had also experienced the loss of a loved one, his wife killed when robbers attacked her for her loot and provisions while on a pilgrimage to a nearby village. Gypsies were suspected, it was widely known that it's their nature to pilfer and harass after all.

 

They married in the spring. All at once, Queen Carole gained a husband and new son; Prince Finn finally had a father and was now a brother; Burt became King Burt with a new wife and another son; Kurt was now a prince with a new mother and older brother. This questionable union confused the citizens, some outright furious about lower class blood tainting the royal line, but most of the people were just delighted for their queen. Burt had always been known as a man of impeccable character, and if he was responsible for making the queen happier than they've seen her in years, then the citizens were happy too.

 

At first, Prince Finn was as confused as the citizens were with his mother's new union. First the laborer and his son were joining them for dinner on occasion and now suddenly they are members of his family. His mom seemed to like Burt enough he supposed, and it was nice to finally have a just king to look up to that wasn't a portrait. Sometimes the prince even felt as if he was bonding with the man who had swept his mother off her feet. It was because of her that Finn began to give Burt a chance, over the years even developing a father-son relationship that was as strong as one would be if they'd been of blood relation.

 

His son was another story though, mostly because he'd heard rumors about the young Hummel boy. The other stable hands that used to work with him were quick to gossip about Kurt, warning their prince about the young man now living near his bedchambers. Prince Finn didn't quite understand what they were trying to tell him. Neither of the laborers wanting to outright say what they meant for fear of their words getting back to their new king, it was no secret how protective Burt was of his son after the boy lost his mother. But Finn remembered their words, keeping an eye on his new younger brother for anything suspicious.

 

For a while he thought maybe the sun had gotten to the laborers, the heat and hard work making them see things. His new brother seemed cool actually. Sure he was picky about what fabrics his clothes were made out of, sometimes going as far as to sew them himself. He had better manners than Finn, for some reason he never seemed to get dirty either, and he got along better with the maidens in their kingdom than the knights, but so what? The weirdest thing he noticed about Kurt was that he was more into reading books than sparring with him and the men.

 

That is, until one day something happened that made him remember the laborers' words. He was just emerging from a hot bath when Kurt had barged into his room, letting him know that his mother was summoning him for some affair or another. Kurt didn't get the chance to express his words however, the younger prince pausing at the sight of a nude Finn. Not expecting to see the scene before him, Kurt couldn't help the blush that rose on his fair cheeks, glasz eyes unconsciously trailing over the older prince's exposed form. Everything clicked into place with that one incident, Finn shouting at the other young man in anger and Kurt mortified that he allowed himself such a slip.

 

After Finn found some trousers, him and Kurt got into a heated argument. Finn was upset by the discovery, the subject of men with other men only ever having come up when he was hanging out with the knights, and their comments about it were never in a good light. Kurt was more hurt than anything else that the person he's come to call brother would react so negatively about a mere aspect of who he was. A servant must have alerted their parents of the loud discussion, the king and queen descending upon their sons and attempting to assess what was wrong. The most surprising thing about it all was that when Finn told his parents about what he suspected Kurt was, neither one seemed all that surprised.

 

That night turned into a long talk for the four family members, during which Kurt remained curled against his father's protective side. They relayed to Finn how important it was that Kurt's secret would remain just that. Also how knocking was a good thing to do before entering anybody's room. Burt was by no means ashamed of his son, and Carole seemed accepting of Kurt's preference, but they all knew how the kingdoms and its citizens viewed this lifestyle. Kurt's life would be in danger if anybody but them knew, titles be damned. That thought alone was enough to cause Finn to rethink, because as much as Kurt's liking for men was confusing to him and maybe even made him a bit uncomfortable, he couldn't ever see himself despising his little brother for it. Would his people really want to hurt Kurt because of it? How can that be? Kurt was their prince, their friend.

 

Truthfully, things didn't get better for the brothers overnight, but with time they developed an understanding of each other. The both of them gradually found it easier to interact with one another, to speak freely with each other about every aspect of their lives, to become as close as any real brothers would. Because Kurt was his brother, and Finn was going to be King. Therefore, it was his job to make sure no harm comes to his little brother.

 

It's just…sometimes he could see how lonely Kurt got, how keeping up the ruse would take it's toll on him. He didn't like it, and he couldn't make it better, but that doesn't mean he didn't try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really this is just background and set up. Next chapter the story actually begins. I'm just curious at how many people would be intrigued by something like this, if any at all. Tell me what you think? Comment, kudos, all that helpful stuff. And I will catch you lovelies later.


	2. Middle Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet-Cute...but not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the fun begins!
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> No beta. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.

(Chapter 1)

 

"Finn, for the final time, I said ‘no’." The younger prince huffed, only half paying attention to his stepsibling. "Now turn around. I need to see how it fits the back."

 

The other grumbled, stiffly turning around in an outfit that still had some carefully placed pins in it. "But it will be great fun. I know you'll enjoy yourself."

 

"Oh, yes. Swimming in a filthy river, sleeping among the putrid smell of festering metal-heads, drinking mead and devouring whole pheasants all hours of the night…I am overjoyed by the opportunity, dear brother." Kurt commented sarcastically. "Hold still. This seam is sewn too tight and this one needs to be let out." He added two more pins. "I think that will do it. You may change back into your other clothes."

 

"Thank God!" Finn hurriedly shuffled behind the wooden changing screen, throwing his formal outfit over it and shoving himself back into his day clothes.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes as his hard work landed on the floor, careful to gather the articles up and lay them over the chair for alterations later. He wandered over to where the parchment with his sketch of Finn's new formal wear was, grabbing the quill and making notes of the alterations needed. "Now you are certain the fabric breathed well?"

 

"Clothes can breathe?"

 

He slowly closed his eyes and sighed, "Never mind. Just tell me if the cloth was comfortable."

 

"Very!" Finn said happily, emerging from behind the screen with a smile. "Thank you again for making me a new formal outfit, Kurt. I would have gone to Emma like mother does, but the seamstress takes far longer than you do!"

 

"Emma refines every detail much more than necessary. It is just her way." Kurt shrugs, "and you're welcome. I've been meaning to try that design out on someone for a few winters now."

 

"Thanks little brother. I am in your debt!" Finn clapped Kurt on the back, making the lither male stumble slightly.

 

"A debt that seems to grow faster than it can shrink."

 

"How can I repay you when you never let me?" Finn smirked.

 

"And exactly how have you ever attempted to repay me?"

 

"Just a moment ago. I tried to invite you to the tournament the Abrams kingdom is holding and you said ‘no’." He countered, frowning a bit at his brother rejecting an invitation from him yet again.

 

Kurt stared for a moment, "Repaying me means that you would do something beneficial for me. How does accompanying you and the knights to the tournament sound like anything I would enjoy?"

 

Finn sighed, "How do you know whether or not it would be enjoyable if you don't at least try?"

 

"Perhaps because I do not much care for the knights and they do not care for me?" He raised an eyebrow.

 

"You've never even given them a chance."

 

"Because they've been so quick to give me one?"

 

"Kurt." Finn said tiredly, giving his younger stepsibling a sincere look. "You can't spend all your time alone. You're a prince, building relations with our people is the only way to gain their trust. How can one reign over the citizens if one truly does not know them?"

 

He snorted, "So you do listen when the king speaks?"

 

The older prince smiled, "I happen to catch an anecdote here and there."

 

Kurt shook his head in amusement. "As interesting as that idea is, it is thankfully not my concern. You are the heir to the throne, Finn. The next king, a fair and just one that the people already love." He said it warmly and without malice. The younger prince having never even thought about the crown for himself, knowing his brother's kindhearted nature was the best thing for the kingdom. Especially when prejudice and cruelty still lined the hearts of many citizens.

 

"Never assume anything, little brother. You are second in line, if I were to die, you would become king."

 

A hard shove was thrust at Finn's shoulder, Kurt appalled by his brother's words. "Do not ever speak of such a thing you big lug! How can you even joke about something so awful?!"

 

The younger prince's face was twisted up in anger, upset his older brother would even joke about that. Finn wilted, "I was merely trying to make a point."

 

"Well, don't. Not like that."

 

"But it must have crossed your mind. It could happen, just as easily as it happened to my father."

 

"Except your father did not have me." Kurt placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, looking up at the taller prince. "We're brothers, I would sooner allow harm to come to myself than to have it happen to you."

 

Finn smirked, "Likewise, brother."

 

"Good." Kurt smiled, patting Finn's shoulder lightly before he urged him towards the wardrobe. "Now, Emma was kind enough to mend the rip in your formal travel clothes. You barely have enough time to change before you are to depart for the Fabray kingdom."

 

The older prince didn't move with the younger's ushering, just stood in that one spot, shifting from foot to foot. "About that…"

 

Kurt paused, and then narrowed his eyes. "Finn Hudson, please do not tell me you are backing out from a pilgrimage once again."

 

"I don't even understand why mother insists that we go on these pilgrimages anyway. It is not as if the princesses don't have knights of their own to escort them here."

 

He stared blankly at Finn, "It is because Quinn is exactly that, a princess. Royal tradition states that your duty as a prince is to escort princesses to formal functions they have accepted an invitation to."

 

"But these trips are always so boring." Finn groaned. "Can't you just do it this time? You get along with Quinn and her handmaiden Brittany better than I do."

 

"Because I escorted Princess Kitty and her handmaiden Marley the last time. It is your turn." Kurt countered, watching as the older prince began to sulk. "Why are you acting as if this is some chore for you? Are you not courting Princess Quinn?"

 

Finn eyed his brother carefully, trying to find the correct words. "I was for a time, but only because mom and Burt pushed me to do so."

 

"So you do not wish to court her anymore?"

 

"No, and please do not tell anyone. Let them think I am courting Quinn. It is better this way."

 

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, "Is it not cruel to lead Quinn on like that?"

 

The taller prince scoffed, "Quinn will be fine. It is Sir Puckerman that she has recently set her sights on."

 

"That poor knight. She'll eat him alive." They both laughed, Kurt relaxing his defensive stance. He may not be very close with Quinn, but he would like to think she considered him a friend. "I'm sure my dad and Carole would understand if you told them that you do not see yourself marrying Quinn. There is no need to keep up a charade if it is not required of you. It is better to unburden yourself before it begins to weigh on you."

 

When he spoke, Finn knew it was from personal experience. "And what if…it is required of me?"

 

"Pardon?"

 

He sighed, "I know keeping secrets is burdening, but I feel if others knew who I was really courting, very few people would be accepting of it."

 

Kurt's eyes widened, his curiosity peaked. "You've been courting someone? In secret? Who? Why?"

 

"This affair is very recent, and I'm not sure what it will develop into as we continue, but I've enjoyed our time together…for the most part. I-I think this has potential."

 

"That's great! Finn, the king and queen would be happy that you've found someone who's company you enjoy."

 

Finn hurriedly covered Kurt's mouth with his hands, shushing him loudly. "Please do not tell them anything. I don't want to have to bring this up with them until I know exactly where this is going." He carefully removed his hands from Kurt's face. "She's not a princess, Kurt."

 

The younger prince was intrigued, "So she is someone you met in this kingdom? What family does she belong to?" Kurt smiled, curious as to who managed to put that blush on his brother's face. "I promise not to tell. It will be our secret."

 

He stared at him for moment, thinking. "Her name is Rachel, and she—she belongs to the Berry family."

 

"The Berry family? Wait. Finn, is she…?"

 

"The bar maiden from the lower quarters? Yes." Finn confessed, "I may have drunk too much mead with the knights that one day you had to cover for my absence, and passed out in her father's tavern. I awoke in her home with her watching over me."

 

"Slightly disturbing."

 

Finn scoffed, "Rachel did not realize I was the prince at first. She thought I was just another knight, until she discovered my royal crest."

 

"That must have been a shock."

 

He laughed, "A bit, but she adapted to the news fairly well. She wouldn't accept any gifts as a token of my appreciation, said it was her duty as a citizen to watch out for her future king."

 

"How noble."

 

"Right?" Finn was beginning to pace now. "So I took her on a picnic instead. I had to do SOMETHING to thank her, and this was all she would agree too."

 

"I bet." Kurt smirked devilishly, the action going unnoticed by Finn.

 

"But then, I couldn't seem to just leave it at that. We began to meet each other outside the palace walls."

 

Kurt narrowed his eyes, finally understanding where this confession was coming from. "You're trying to get out of escorting Princess Quinn so you can go gallivant with your secret woman."

 

"Rachel is not my woman!" Finn blushed, grumbling all huffily. "But if referring to Rachel as my woman will get you to escort Quinn for me this afternoon…"

 

"Not a chance, Prince Hudson."

 

He paused in his pacing and threw his hands in the air, "Aw come on! You know I'd do the same for you—" Finn quickly cut himself off, hunching his shoulders when he realized what he'd said.

 

"I know, Finn. I know you'd do the same for me…if you could." Kurt exhaled a breath slowly, all the fight leaving him.

 

Finn was determined to backpedal. "Kurt, KURT. I-I'm sorry. I forget myself for a minute. Please forgive me."

 

He scuffed his boot on the floor, head lowered as he refused to make eye contact. "There is nothing to forgive."

 

"I did not mean to upset you."

 

Kurt looked up at his brother and tried to smile, even though it did not reach his eyes. "Who's upset? Not me. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to explain my absenteeism to Mercedes."

 

"Absenty—what?"

 

Smiling, Kurt clarified. "We were going to raid the fabric vendors that came to town today."

 

He let out a hesitant chuckle, "I do believe she was joining Rachel, Sir Evans, and I today. My apologies, as I forgot to relay Lady Mercedes' message to you."

 

"But why would she…" Kurt didn't even need to finish his statement before he realized what Finn meant. "Her and Sam? Why has she not mentioned this bit of gossip to me?"

 

The older prince pursed his lips, "Perhaps it simply slipped her mind."

 

It was clear Finn was not being truthful, Kurt furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to figure out why everyone around him was keeping secrets from him. First Finn, then Quinn, and now Mercedes! Did they not think he could keep a secret? Or is it just that…oh. "You all have deliberately kept your relationships secret from me."

 

"No!"

 

"No?"

 

"No…I mean, perhaps yes, but only because we did not wish to boast about it to you."

 

"Why? Because I can never do the same in return?"

 

Finn sighed, aggravated that he couldn't explain his actions properly. "We merely saw no need to have you feel left out. We were thinking only of you."

 

He was taken aback by that answer. Surprised his friends would consider his feelings when it came to their relationships. "Oh." Kurt breathed out, continuing to silently process this information, and attempting to hide how he indeed felt left out. "Well, you be sure to give them my regards this afternoon." It was fairly hard to be angry with them when their assumptions were valid. "As for me, I'll be escorting Princess Quinn to our kingdom. So you best run along now."

 

"Kurt…" Finn began, frowning as his brother desperately tried to cover up his feelings with another smile. Kurt was trying to hide his pain, and after so many years, he no longer fooled the older prince.

 

"No, no." He chuckled faintly, his glasz eyes beginning to shine wetly. "If you believe this Rachel may be your chance at true love, then I will do everything I can to give you any opportunity at happiness."

 

"You don't have to—"

 

The younger prince held up a silencing hand. "At least one of us deserves to find one to cherish, to find the one we wish to spend the rest of lives with. And as you said, you would do the same for me. That is, if I had the possibility."

 

"You will." Finn said with conviction. "One day you will. I promise."

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt peered out the window of the horse drawn carriage, daydreaming as Quinn and Brittany prattled with each other. Normally he made the effort of conversing with them, but today he wasn't feeling very sociable. Maybe it was because of what he discovered, how no one felt comfortable enough to discuss their love life with him. How much they felt sorry for him, pitied him. It made him feel tragic.

 

"I am honestly appalled at how late you were to escort us, Kurt. It's already well past dusk." Quinn commented.

 

"My apologies Lady Fabray. I did not keep proper track of the time during one of my drawing sessions," he lied smoothly.

 

"Oh Prince Kurt! Have you designed another gown for my lady?" Brittany chimed in excitedly. "You always make the most gorgeous formal gowns."

 

The prince smiled, always grateful when someone appreciated his work. "The formal wear was for my brother, Prince Finn."

 

Brittany turned and whispered to Quinn, "I bet Prince Finn looked very handsome in his new gown." Princess Quinn merely rolled her eyes at her handmaiden.

 

He chuckled at her statement, turning to look at the girls sitting across from him. "I have a few I've drawn over the last few seasons, perhaps you and Quinn would like to take a look?"

 

"Oh my lady, may we?" Brittany turned her pleading blue eyes towards the princess, innocently hopeful.

 

Quinn thought for a moment, "I suppose we could. Did you have a design in mind for me?"

 

Kurt nodded, "I did have this one gown in mind for you that I imagined with fabric dyed the color of the midafternoon sky—"

 

The horses pulling their carriage neighed loudly, Quinn and Brittany shouting in surprise when the carriage skidded to a halt, their bodies thrown towards Kurt. He felt the whiplash himself, his head banging on the wooden backing. Kurt grit his teeth through the oncoming pain as he reached out towards the girls, stopping them before they could fall forward.

 

"What happened?!"

 

"Why did we stop?!"

 

Before Kurt could give his own inquiry, screams and the sound of striking swords could be heard. He instinctively reached for the sword resting at his waist, unsheathing it as he heard the cry of agony from a fallen knight. "Ssh! Stay in here. Do not make any more sounds."

 

"But our knights—" Brittany began.

 

"I will see what the commotion is." Kurt cut her off. "You just protect your lady."

 

The handmaiden nodded. "With my life."

 

He nodded, moving over to the door with his sword ready. Kurt pushed through the carriage door and landed in a fighting stance on the ground below. The sight before the prince shocked him. There were bandits robbing the carriage of it's loot, and knights trying to fend off the fleet of ambushers. Already there were knights slain on the dirt road, the robbers quick to strip them of their sturdy armor. He was sure with the number of knights traveling with them on this pilgrimage that no bandit would approach, but it was obvious he was wrong.

 

Kurt's eyes widened when he realized that the knights had outnumbered the bandits, and yet, one by one the royal guards fell. The small band of robbers striking fast and hard, some even taking on two knights at a time. To his disbelief, he could see a female bandit taking on three knights with ease. Another bandit was sifting through the cargo strapped to the back of the carriage, claiming a prize they already believed to be theirs. There was only one type of people Kurt had come to know that could be this ruthless, and judging by the clothes they wore, the prince had little doubt in his mind that he was wrong.

 

The prince gripped his sword a little tighter as he spat under his breath, "Gypsies."

 

A blade cut through the air, Kurt quick to raise his sword to block it. There was another man's face inches from his, baring down on his blade to try and get Kurt to buckle under the weight. All the prince could see was a hardened amber gaze. "Have a problem with gypsies?"

 

"Besides the fact you're all thieves?" He pushed with all his strength, throwing the gypsy off of him.

 

The gypsy chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he stalked around Kurt. "Just like an ignorant noble."

 

He was going to protest, but then three harsh strikes of the gypsy's blade were aimed at him. Kurt was barely able to block the attacks. "Noble?"

 

"Knight, royal guard, whatever you wish to call yourself." The gypsy shoved Kurt back and went to land another blow, his dark triangular eyebrows furrowing when his blue-eyed opponent blocked him once again. "You may be scrawny for a knight, but I admire your reflexes." He delivered three swift cuts of his blade once again, but a little bit harder this time. When he was blocked just as he was before, he began to laugh. "Nice, very nice."

 

Kurt stumbled back, the bones in his arms still vibrating with the last attack. "You enjoy fighting?"

 

"I enjoy a challenge." Again the gypsy swung his blade at Kurt, testing for a weak spot. The other young man continued with his blocks, his eyes never leaving the gypsy's. Their clinking blades continued to ring throughout the rapidly approaching night, the sound of the other bandits' swords dying out as the rest of the knights fell. Now, neither one wanted to admit to a stalemate, but, well…"Why. Do. You. Not. Strike. Me?" Each word was punctuated with another swing of his sword, the last swing making contact and slicing Kurt's arm.

 

The prince screamed when pain erupted, his free hand reaching up to squeeze the bleeding wound below his shoulder. If Kurt were any slower his arm would have been sliced in half. He glared at the gypsy as blood trickled down his arm and dripped upon his blade. "You want me to strike you?"

 

He grinned, twirling his sword that now had Kurt's blood on it. "What I want is for you not to hold back."

 

In lieu of answering, Kurt did just that. He clenched his teeth through the pain and sliced the sharp edge of his sword through the air. His hits weren't as powerful as the gypsy's, but they were indeed faster. The hazel-eyed gypsy evaded and blocked the other's sword, bravado faltering when Kurt's attacks seemed to get impossibly faster. He couldn't even attempt an attack, not with the barrage of swings coming from what looked like all angles. The next time a shout rang out, it was the gypsy’s; Kurt smirking confidently as more blood covered his sword. It just wasn't his own. "There. Now we're even."

 

Flicking his gaze up, the gypsy glowered. His hand was covering a portion of his leather hide covered torso, his vest sliced on the left hand side of his lower abdomen and secreting blood, the white sleeve of his shirt dotting with dark crimson. He gripped the handle of his sword tighter, "You will pay dearly for tha—"

 

A loud screech could be heard just at the right of them, the gypsy woman that'd been fighting before now holding Princess Quinn by her golden hair and resting her bloody sword against the princess's pale throat. "Lay your sword down, Porcelain." She pressed the blade a little harder against Quinn's neck, the princess screaming as the sharpened edge began to pierce her delicate skin. "Or the princess here won't have a head to rest that pretty, pretty crown on top of."

 

Kurt's sword was immediately lowered, the male gypsy forgotten as he immediately began to move towards Quinn and that female bandit. "You leave her be!"

 

The prince didn't get far, a jaw-jarring punch ramming against the side of his head. He stumbled to the floor, sword slipping from his grip as he blinked blearily. His vision was blurry, and his head throbbed almost loudly. Kurt didn't even register the kicks at first, the second punch to his face is what brought him back to somewhat coherency. The prince curled into himself, his main concern being to protect his face and slender tummy from any more hits. Despite the onslaught, he could make out two distinct voices.

 

"Was that really necessary, Santana?"

 

"Most people would say ‘thank you’."

 

"I was doing just fine."

 

"Whatever you say, boss man."

 

He let out a whoosh of air when a kick was perfectly aimed at his stomach, the prince coughing and wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. "Enough!" The male gypsy said, or at least he suspected it was him. "Tie him up with the others."

 

The blows ceased and hands were suddenly on him, jerking him up as they positioned him this way and that on the dirt floor. His arms were yanked behind his back and coarse rope was tied tightly around his wrists. He must have still been dazed from the beating, because he didn't even attempt to fight them, just swayed dizzily as they pushed him to his knees. Someone was crying next to him, and when he looked over he realized it was Quinn. Brittany next to her in a similar position on her knees, hands bound even as she attempted to comfort the princess.

 

"It will be all right, my lady. Please do not cry. You will get all red." It looked as if she wanted to hug her with the way her shoulders hitched up, but Brittany just frowned, shuffling closer to Quinn to huddle against her comfortingly.

 

"They're going to kill us. They're going to kill us!" She sobbed.

 

"No they won't." Kurt tried to croak out, coughing on his own bloody tongue. He may have bit it during the struggle.

 

"Oh yes we are." A gypsy smirked maliciously; his poison green eyes unsettling against his blood splattered face and his smile making him look equivalent to an evil chipmunk.

 

"Sebastian." A familiar voice said warningly. The gypsy, Sebastian, rolled his eyes and moved away as another gypsy walked towards the tied up trio. "I will decide if any more blood needs to be shed."

 

"Right, right. Well that's boring, so I believe I will just loot through our day's earnings." He shrugged, strutting towards the items they stole.

 

The gypsy sighed, looking run down and exasperated. Kurt blinked up at the gypsy that had wounded him moments ago. He had olive skin and curled dark locks on his head. His chest was broad under the cheap fabric of his gypsy clothes and his limbs were toned with muscled tendons. The prince had never seen another man like him before. He swallowed thickly, grimacing at the coppery taste in his mouth. "You've already taken all we have. Just leave us here and go."

 

Hazel eyes were directed back at him again, curiousness reflecting within them. He didn't respond right away, merely regarded Kurt with a calculating look. It was the gypsy woman, Santana, who stepped forward and spoke first. "Leave you here? Hah! What a funny, funny knight you are." She nearly purred at him, walking over and putting the tip of her blade under Quinn's chin, urging the princess to lock eyes with her. "Why would we do that when we have a perfectly decent princess we can kidnap for ransom?"

 

Quinn sniffled, attempting to shuffle away from the sword. Brittany hopped forward on her knees, trying to take attention away from her lady. "Be careful! You'll hurt the baby!"

 

Kurt's eyes grew wide. This was even a surprise to him. Santana didn't seem shocked by it, more intrigued than anything. "Really?" She bent down on one knee and grabbed the princess's chin more fiercely, peering into her eyes. "Imagine what we can get the child's father to pay to get his precious little family back."

 

The princess's eyes watered some more, "Please, no. I haven't even told him yet."

 

Is that why Quinn was eager to get to their kingdom? She wanted to tell that knight she was bearing his child? Sir Puckerman could be a father, and he doesn't even know? Wait, is it even Puck's child, or is it…? "Take me."

 

"Did you say something, Porcelain?" Santana glanced over at him, uninterested.

 

The prince looked over at Santana, glasz eyes cold and hard. "I said, take me. Take me and let the women go." That child, that baby, it could be his future niece or nephew. More than that, it could be Finn's heir. He couldn't let these gypsies bring any harm to the child, not to Quinn or even Brittany. "I promise to go willingly."

 

Santana was laughing again, or more like cackling. "You want me to let this opportunity escape us? Leave the one who could make us rich, and for what? A puny little knight like you?"

 

"Not a knight. A prince. First in line to the Hudson throne." He heard the girls beside him gasp, no doubt catching his lie. But the gypsy outcasts wouldn't know that, nor should they need to. "I can guarantee you the heir to a kingdom is much more valuable than a pregnant unwed princess."

 

"Kurt." Quinn said his name softly, worried by what he was doing. The prince ignored her, keeping his focus solely on the gypsy.

 

"Did you say Hudson? From the middle kingdom?" The gypsy he'd been dueling with earlier stepped in front of him, still holding his bleeding side.

 

"Yes. That's correct." Kurt looked up at him, his face still hurting from the punch he'd received. He thought he even felt blood trickle from his nose.

 

The lady bandit didn't seem too impressed. "Oh come on, Blaine! That kingdom is one of the smallest of the lands. What do we want Prince Lady for when we have this scandalous princess?"

 

"Santana." Blaine ground out her name, the woman huffing and begrudgingly standing up to move away from the bound girls.

 

"We never do anything I want!"

 

"Was the attack on the wagon not your idea?" A hulking gypsy behind them asked.

 

"No one was speaking to you, Karofsky." She growled his way, and then turned back to Blaine. "Blaine, boss man, you can not seriously be considering taking this boy over the princess? She's practically a goldmine."

 

"I am, Santana, and we are." Blaine, seemingly the leader of their little band, stared down at Kurt, honey eyes dark and focused. Kurt could feel himself beginning to whither under his intense gaze, body straightening up a bit more and defiantly trying to remain stoic. He swore he saw Blaine's jaw tick, his bloody fingers curling tighter against the wound in his side as he grinned a slow devilish smile. "Take him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! First official chapter is up! What're you guys thinking about this? You like? No like? Should it continue? Please bookmark, kudos, and subscribe to let me know. And don't forget to leave a comment letting me know your thoughts and initial reactions! You lovelies are amazing! Till next time!


	3. Family Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal nuisance, a family habit, and a bloody mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I have no excuse. I'm just a shit updater, and I honestly don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'm trying y'all.  
> Y'all that are still with are the reason I don't give up. Thanks for sticking by my absent ass.
> 
> Anyways, Happy New Year!
> 
> No beta. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.
> 
> *WARNING* for swearing, attempted rape, and homophobic references.
> 
> It's honestly not that bad, but I'd just thought I'd warn ya.
> 
> ~C.J.

(Chapter 2)

 

Kurt screamed at the tops of his lungs when a searing pain burned his shoulder. He heard the hiss of heat against something tender, smelt the burning of flesh, and felt hot fire drag across his wounded arm. At fist he thought this was some kind of torture they were putting him through, what with his struggles being halted by strong hands holding his thrashing body in place. It wasn’t that he wanted to cry, but the tears leaked from his eyes without his permission, even as the unyielding object burning his arm was removed for a momentary reprieve.

 

The prince all but collapsed against the gypsies firmly holding him, trying to contain the whimpers that escaped from his lips.

 

“Pampered prat.”  
  
“Can’t even handle a little hot iron.”

 

“Must be nice to live with physicians that can fix ya fancy elixirs.”

 

“The baby prince s’not going to last long out here at this rate.”

 

If anyone else had something to say, they didn’t get the chance to comment. Because just then, the hot iron was pressed against his arm again, and suddenly all Kurt could hear was his own screams ringing in his ear. However, someone must have gotten tired of him, since the next thing he knew was that there was a rag forced into his mouth. It was wet, dripping a foul liquid down his chin as the prince gagged on the cloth muffling his cries.  


The hot iron pressed more insistently into his shoulder for a split second then, before disappearing altogether. Despite the relief, Kurt couldn’t help but choke on the rag in his mouth. Not wanting the taste of that awful cloth on his tongue, he tried to spit it out, only to have a hand clamp over it. Kurt looked in the direction of the hand, only to see those hardened honey eyes again. That damn gypsy from the fight. Was he trying to drug him or something?  


“Cease your struggles, your highness. We are truly trying to help.” The gypsy, Blaine he remembered his name, said. Almost as if he was answering Kurt’s internal question.

 

Kurt didn’t let up, just continued to try and force the rag out of his mouth. Only to shoot Blaine a distrusting look through his battered face when the gypsy refused to let the rag pass from between his lips.

 

That woman from before began laughing behind him, “your highness? Such formality for someone we just dragged back to camp unconscious.”  
  
Blaine rolled his eyes, “You have your way of addressing royalty and I have mine.”

 

“Well, _his highness_ doesn’t even recognize the process of cauterizing a wound. Bloody screaming like some distressed damsel.” She scoffed.

 

“Perhaps he feels uneasy.” Blaine shot back. “Cauterization can be overwhelming if one has never encountered it before…”

 

“Then he should have been left to bleed out on the floor like the rest of those noble scum!” Santana screeched. “Not brought back to be patched up over your own camp.”

 

The gypsy sighed, “Santana, he’s no use to us dead—”

 

“Alive he’s nothing but a royal nuisance.”  
  
“Then how is it at the moment the only nuisance I find is you?” He questioned sharply.

 

A couple of the gypsies holding Kurt down snickered, Santana cutting off their hidden laughs with one withering sneer. “Very well then, boss man.” She removed the belt from her waist, the one that held her sword’s sheath and pistol holster. The female gypsy threw them at Blaine’s feet. “Kindly sit on your sword.”

 

Then she turned on her heel and sauntered away from them, leaving murmuring gypsies behind her and one very irritated Blaine. He removed his hands from Kurt, who had already stopped fighting any of them a few moments ago. The contents of the liquid he gagged on taking effect and leaving him limp in their arms. Kurt blinked blearily at the gypsy leader, defiantly trying to keep from blacking out as the curly haired gypsy stared at where the woman stormed off.

 

Blaine took a few steps after her, when another gypsy cleared his throat. “Um…boss?”  
  
He paused, “ _What_.”

 

The sharpness caused the hulking gypsy to shrink back, vaguely making Kurt wonder how someone so small in stature could strike fear and obedience from everybody. Well, almost everybody.

 

“I-It’s just…”  
  
“Spit it out already, Karofsky.”

 

The other swallowed, “Well, I was just…”  
  
Another impatient gypsy rolled his eyes next to him, “what exactly do we do with this?”

 

Suddenly, Kurt felt himself released and tipped forward so he could fall to the ground in a heap. His face was in the dirt, none of his limbs were cooperating, and being unconscious again just really didn’t seem like such a bad idea right now.

 

“Put in him in an empty caravan for now…”

 

More murmured words.

 

Fading voices.

 

And finally…blissful blackness.

 

* * *

 

 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FIND HIM?!”

 

The Knights of the Middle Kingdom bowed their heads, fear coursing through them as their general and future King roared at them louder than they ever thought possible.

 

“But sire…the gypsies didn’t leave ay trace—”  
  
The knight, Sir Evans, held back a manly squeak as the front of his armor was grabbed ruthlessly by Prince Hudson. “Look. Harder.”

 

The knight gulped, nodding shakily before he was pushed back into the ranks. “Y-Yes, your highness.”

 

“Sire, we want to find Kurt just as much as you do.” Sir Puckerman stepped forward, trying his best not to look intimidated.

 

“Are you certain of that?” He spat.

 

Puckerman looked at him incredulously, “Hudson have you gone mad? How could you ask such a thing?” He turned back towards the bowed Knights; “there’s not a man here that wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for the younger prince.”

 

“You lot have shown nothing but contempt for my brother ever since he joined the royal family!” Finn pushed the other knight.  
  
“When has that ever got in the way of our duty to the Middle Kingdom?!” Puck actually pushed Finn back, surprising the prince for a moment. “Your brother is the worst kept secret within these walls. And whether what he is sits well with us or not, it has NEVER hindered the promise we made when we became knights.” Puck moved away from Finn to bow in front of the queen and her king. “Your majesties, apologies for my outburst, and if you’ll allow us too, the knights would like to alert the nearby kingdoms of this incident. The gypsies could be hiding within a different kingdom, and perhaps good fortune will even shine upon us enough for them to offer their help.”

 

The queen smiled sadly as she held her distraught husband’s hand, and nodded her head, “So be it.”

 

Puck bowed again and then turned on his heel to face the knights. “Move out, men. Our prince needs us.”

 

The knights all obeyed, bowing to the royal family and then turning to exit the throne room. Puckerman moving to follow them, vowing to find Kurt soon so that he can go to be with his traumatized princess.

 

As Sir Puckerman passed him, the prince’s mouth was open in shock, face turning red in embarrassment due to one of his knights chastising him so openly. “How dare you—”

 

“And furthermore,” the knight sighed, “it’s not our place to comment about who the royal family beds. We’ve already become accustomed to your family habit of breaking tradition.”

 

Puck then gave a curt nod before continuing his exit, but Finn’s blood was boiling, “PUCKERMAN!”

 

“Finn…” the queen said softly, “let him leave.”

 

The Prince went rigid, glaring daggers at the last knight as he left the room. “You can’t allow our subjects to speak so discourteously.”  
  
“Not everyone has an opinion we condone.”

 

He whirled around to look at his mother, “So we just accept them expressing it so disrespectfully in our presence?” The prince turned to the king, “Burt, you of all people—”  
  
“Do not care what the knights think of Kurt.” He cut off his stepson, speaking low and solemn in his state of despair.

 

Again, Finn’s mouth dropped open. “H-How? I don’t understand.”

 

King Burt sighed very tiredly, “Because that knight was right. If their personal feelings do not get in the way of performing their duties, then it does not matter if they accept Kurt or I.”

 

“Of course it matters.” Finn stressed. “You always said—”

 

“I know what I said!” Burt stood up suddenly, cutting him off sharply. “But I also know what lies in the hearts of these citizens. I lived among them for decades.” He was shaking now, but refused to let go of his wife’s hand. “How low they think of me in comparison to your father, even lower of my son. You think I don’t know?”  
  
Finn shook his head, “How can you just accept this, the way your people are?”  
  
“Because they’re not my people, Finn,” The king stated, “or Kurt’s. They’re your mother’s, and soon to be yours. So the only ones the people should love and trust, are you two.” Burt let go of his wife’s hand and stepped towards Finn, placing a hand on his stepson’s shoulder. “And if your people merely condone Kurt and I, or at the very least accept the fact that our once two broken families have come together to love each other as one, then there isn’t much more we could ask of them.”

 

“No,” the prince’s eyes began to water, “I do not accept that.” He shrugged Burt’s hand off. “Why should the people just _condone_ you? Why can’t they be your friends as they are mine?”

 

“Friendship among Kurt and the knights wouldn’t change a thing.”

  
“Yes it would!” The prince insisted, “It would make them fight harder for him, protect him above and beyond what duty calls for. Just as they do for me.”

 

“The world does not work that way.”  
  
“Then I will make it work that way!” Finn clenched his fists, “You may be content with how things are now, but I am not. When I am king, I will make the people understand, just as you taught me to understand.”

 

Burt wanted to argue, but he just let out a tired laugh. “You really believe you can change the heart of every person within these walls?”  
  
Finn shrugged, “I have to try. If not for you, than for Kurt. He deserves as much. He deserves…to know he is loved.”

 

The king gave a half smirk, nodding once seeing as nothing was going to budge the prince’s mind on this. “Well, before you get to that, let’s just bring your brother home.”

 

“It will be done.” This time, Finn put his hand on Burt’s shoulder. “I will not let those gypsies steal a loved one from you again.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was pain again, but not quite as it was before. It was duller, constant throbbing sensations that seemed to sporadically make themselves known across his entire body. He hurt, all over. But he couldn’t move properly, his limbs felt like lead, and his bones felt rickety, like one of the old barstools from Berry’s tavern. Why…why did he feel this way?  
  
Amber eyes flashed behind his closed eyelids.

 

 _Take me_.

 

Kurt’s eyes flew open, the prince suddenly recalling the events passed. He was a prisoner, held captive by gypsies, and they think he’s the crowned prince. Fuck, what had he been thinking?

 

With everything flooding back to him at once, his head pounded more incessantly, making Kurt groan. When his noise was muffled by cloth in his mouth, Kurt realized he was still gagged.

 

 _Great_.

 

The prince made an effort to spit out the gag, only to realize it’s been tied over his mouth this time. Due to this annoyance, Kurt attempted to reach up and remove the gag by hand, just to find his arms were bound behind his back.

 

_Of course._

 

He huffed behind the gag, squirming despite his battered body throbbing against the movement. Kurt tried to stretch out of the awkward position he’d been laying in on the wooden floor—oh. The prince lifted his head as much as could, squinting in the darkness to gaze at his legs, and unfortunately his suspicions seemed to be correct. His ankles were bound too.

 

With that, Kurt thunked his already battered head back against the hard floor. He was prepared to spend the rest of the evening gazing up into the darkness, ready to contemplate how he could let himself be so rash, so thoughtless, so _stupid_.

 

The prince sighed behind his gag.

 

Well, at least he was free of those gypsies for the moment.

 

A twig snapped somewhere nearby, and a small scuffle could be heard. “ow!”

 

 _Damn_.

 

“Karofsky you oversized troll, watch where you’re going!” Someone whispered harshly.

 

“Sorry. It’s dark out here.”

 

“Obviously you dense fool. Its called _night_.”

 

The caravan rocked a bit, and then some scraping could be heard from the other side of where Kurt was curled up. “Are you going to be able to open it, Sebastian?”  
  
“Maybe if you held the lantern near the lock instead of your ugly mug I might be able to!” The other one, presumable Sebastian hissed.

 

A dim light could be seen shining between the cracks of a door, and metal clicking sounds could be heard as well. Kurt’s eyes widened, the gypsies were coming into the caravan. What should he do? He can’t fight them off, not with how heavy his body felt and his limbs tightly bound. Not to mention, he is in no condition to even try. Should he pretend to still be unconscious, would that upset them? Perhaps they were just coming to check if he’s still where they left him, or checking if he’s still alive? Maybe if they think he’s still incoherent they’ll just leave—

 

A loud click, “Got it!”  
  
_Crap_!

 

Kurt closed his eyes just a second before the caravan door opened, concentrating on keeping his breathing even so as not to give anything away.

 

“Is he still out cold?”

 

“Probably. The delicate little prince likely holds his drink about as well as a maiden.”

 

 _Hey_.

 

“Santana’s a maiden and she drinks you under the table, Sebastian.”

 

“That woman of yours is no maiden. If anything she’s a right harlot.” The gypsy commented, shuffling forward along with his hulking friend close behind. “Now hurry and get on with it. I want you to hand over your portion of the day’s spoils as soon as this is done.”

 

“I told you I would and I will. Now just, watch the door or something.”

 

The gypsy chuckled, “But this is so much more interesting.”

 

One set of footsteps stopped, but another proceeded to get closer to where Kurt was laying.

 

“Sebastian…”  
  
“Fine, fine.” He chuckled again. “You and your performance issues.”

 

The further footsteps got even further away, and the closer ones stepped right in front of the prince’s face. What were they planning to do to him? Were they going to beat him again? Maybe even kill him?  
  
Kurt felt oversized hands grab him collar and hauled him upright, pushing him back until he was seated propped up against the side of the caravan. His heart rate picked up, but he remained stoic in his false state of unconsciousness. Whether that was because he was paralyzed by fear or morbid curiosity, he didn’t know.  
  
_What is going on?_  
  
Then something surprising happened. Clumsy fingers reached behind his head and untied the gag, pulling it away to remove from his mouth entirely.  
  
“That’s a bad idea.” One could almost hear the smile in his singsong voice.

 

“Shut up! I told you to watch the door.” The gypsy in front of him hissed.  
  
“I think I can manage both.”

 

There was a pause, the closest gypsy mumbling insults under his breath before turning his attention back to the seemingly unconscious prince. He knelt down with his knees bracketing Kurt’s bound ones, getting level with him, and then placed his calloused hands on both of his fair cheeks. For a moment nothing happened, there was just the overgrown gypsy’s putrid breath fanning across Kurt’s face, making the prince’s stomach churn sickly. Something wasn’t right. Something was definitely not right.  
  
“So pretty.”

 

Foul, chapped lips pressed against his lax ones, forcing a bruising kiss on him.

 

_No…_

 

The gypsy chocked suddenly when both of Kurt’s legs jerked up harshly into the bastard’s unprotected groin. He jerked his head back long enough to see the prince’s eyes fly open, before he was thrown backwards as Kurt quickly brought his knees to his chest and thrust his booted feet forward into the gypsy’s stomach.

 

“Fuck!”  
  
The big gypsy landed on his back in the middle of the caravan, giving Kurt enough time to use his bound hands and feet to push himself up the wall into a standing position. He was shaking, standing unsteadily, but not because of the pain or trauma his body was still reeling from. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to cry…he wanted his mom.

 

“You big idiot!”  
  
“Bloody noble!”  
  
“Grab him already!”

 

Kurt couldn’t react fast enough, before he could try and evade them, both gypsies grabbed him and shoved him to the floor. He cried out as best he could, his scream coming out hoarse and weak even in the still night.

 

“Shut him up!”  
  
The rag was forced into his mouth again, Kurt screaming and wriggling, anything to try and get out from under them.

 

“I thought you said he’d be out cold?!”

 

“I said _probably_ you oaf! Not my fault the little prince can hold his drink better than you.” Hands tightened on Kurt’s wounded shoulder, causing him to scream in agony. “And what’s the matter, Karofsky? You only like your bedmates limp and helpless? Not up for the ones that fight back?”  
  
“That’s not it!”  
  
“Then get it over with already!” Sebastian growled, “I want my payment now.”  
  
“Alright! Alright.” The gypsies manhandled Kurt a little, changing their positions a bit until the bigger gypsy, Karofsky, was hovering directly behind him. He reached out and pulled up the back of Kurt’s shirt, then grabbed the waist of his pants and started to pull them down.

 

_Wait…WAIT!_

 

Kurt yelled into his rag again, and renewed his efforts in trying to jerk out of the gypsies’ hold. He kicked, and jerked, and threw his body around as if he was mad.

 

“Dammit…ow!”  
  
Finally Kurt spit out the rag and lunged towards one of the arms holding him and bit down hard.  
  
“Little bitch!”  
  
The arm he bit let go of him, but Kurt wasn’t going to give him up. He continued to bite into the flesh between his teeth, no longer thinking clearly but just trying to _fight_.

 

The gypsy screamed bloody murder, using his free hand to hit and punch the head latched onto his arm. “Karofsky you stupid moron, get him off me!”  
  
Karofsky grabbed the prince’s shoulders, tugging on him to try and yank him off of his fellow gypsy.

 

Sebastian screamed again, “Not like that you idiot! You’re just going to rip my arm off as well!”

 

The big gypsy began punching the prince’s head this time, just to be met with Sebastian cursing louder at him and the prince still latched onto his arm, but now there was blood running down his chin. Panicking, Karofsky did the only thing he could think of to next. He wrapped his enormous hands around the prince’s neck, and squeezed.

 

For a second, nothing happened, but Sebastian’s screams weren’t getting louder, so at least he wasn’t making things worse again. Suddenly, the prince began to squirm, and his chest began to twitch. Karofsky squeezed a little harder, and the noble started to make cut off noises of distress, what with not having enough air to complete them. Then slowly, very slowly, his jaw began to become lax, the prince opening his mouth in an attempt to get some much-needed air.

 

All at once, Karofsky was shoved against the caravan, a gasping prince still in his grip and a very pissed off Sebastian looking at the prisoner.

 

“You bloody fucking wretch.” Sebastian reached for the dagger at his side, removing it and pointing it at the prince’s chest.

 

Karofsky swallowed thickly, “Seb, the boss wouldn’t like—”

 

“The boss can go fuck himself. He’s not running the show right now and neither are you anymore. I am.” There were those poison green eyes again, staring at Kurt with such malice while he gasps for breath. “Now turn him around.”

 

“But—” Karofsky snapped his mouth closed when he saw Sebastian loosen his trousers.

 

“You can either turn him around, or you can leave. Just don’t get in my way.” Sebastian ground out.

 

The other gypsy nodded, loosening his grip on the prince so he could turn him around. Kurt gasped desperately when his airway wasn’t being crushed anymore, tears of relief beginning to stream down his face as he coughed and wheezed.

 

Sebastian didn’t waste any time once the prince was no longer facing him, yanking his own pants open the rest of the way and moving to do the same to Kurt’s. “Teach you a lesson you little prat.”  
  
“And what lesson would that be?” There was a click at the open door of the caravan. Blaine leaning against the doorframe with a pistol aimed at Sebastian and a near empty bottle of liquor in his other hand.

 

The air was still for a second, the only sound being Kurt’s ragged breathing.

 

Finally Sebastian scoffed, “Go home, boss. You’re sloshed.”

 

Blaine huffed, straightening upright and taking an unsteady step towards the two, his aim never wavering. “Am I?”

 

Karofsky went ashen the minute he saw Blaine, terrified the pistol would be turned on him rather or after Sebastian. “B-Boss, what—”

 

“This doesn’t concern you, hobbit!” Sebastian snarled, not ready to give up his act of revenge.

 

“Really?” Blaine snorted in amusement, taking another unsteady advance. “Cuz I thought, with em bein my prisoner and all, he had errthing to do with me.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, pouting when he accidentally spilled some of his drink.

 

“Fine then, do as you wish. I was never one to mind if there was an audience anyway.” Sebastian placed his hand on the back on Kurt’s head, gripping the hair tight and causing the prince to whimper pitifully.

 

“Back off Sebastian.” Blaine said sternly, sounding way more dangerous than any drunk should.

 

The bigger gypsy was beginning to tremble, “Sebastian, maybe we should—”

 

“Should what?!” He whirled on him, “leave him be? Forget about what a little bitch he’s been just because the bloody boss is drunk and waving a pistol?”  
  
“That’s exactly what we should do!” Karofsky pleaded. “Do you really want to get shot over this?!”

 

“Like he’d even succeed with how sloshed he is.”

 

“Come, come now.” Blaine interrupted, smiling drunkenly. “My aim’s fine.” He waved the gun again, letting his smile fade into a deadly blank expression and making it a point to settle his point blank aim on Sebastian. “M’just less caution on whether this’ll kill ya err jest hurt ya.”

 

Both gypsies seemed to freeze at those words, Karofsky looking like he wanted to run and Sebastian looking even more pissed off that before. “You’re bluffing.”

 

Blaine smiled again, but this time it reflected eerily. “Then why are you so still?”

 

Sebastian didn’t answer right away, and neither did Karofsky. All three gypsies stood in the dark caravan for a lengthy amount of time, waiting to see who was going to make the next move.

 

In the end, of course it was Sebastian.

 

He huffed out a laugh, sliding a fake smile onto his face and letting go of Kurt’s hair before he moved to sheath his knife. “Well, if you wanted first go at him boss, all you had to do was say so.” He continued to smile at Blaine, even as he tied his trousers back up, but that did nothing to hide the rage behind his green eyes.  
  
“Sure, Seb. Sure.” Blaine lowered his pistol, but kept it cocked and finger on the trigger just in case.  
  
Sebastian strode towards Blaine, all the while never letting his sickly smile falter. He stepped right beside him, tapping the back of his knuckles against the bottle the other held, before curling them around the glass neck. The gypsy kept eye contact with Blaine as he grabbed the bottle from him and took a swig. Licking his lips when he was done and holding up his bleeding arm in explanation, “for the pain.”  
  
“Right…”  
  
The two glared at each other for a moment longer. Blaine determined to remain unyielding and Sebastian trying to exude the illusion that he wasn’t just foiled.

 

In the end, Sebastian just huffed another short laugh. “Night, boss man.” He took the bottle with him as he exited the caravan. Barely remembering to throw over his shoulder a, “Karofsky! We’re leaving!”

 

That snapped the bigger gypsy out of his daze, quickly dropping the prince as he scrambled to catch up to Sebastian and completely avoid Blaine. “R-Right!”

 

Blaine listened to the footsteps as the other gypsies wandered away. When no more footsteps could be heard, he uncocked the pistol and slid it back into his holder. He sighed tiredly and shook his head at it all. What a bloody mess.

 

As if trying to remind Blaine that there was still someone else in the caravan with him, Kurt let out a wet cough, his body twitching with the effort—and the pain—that came with it. Blaine shuffled over to the small heap that was supposed to be the prince, who was not surprisingly unconscious once again. He examined the way he was curled up, with his limbs still bound together and blood splattered down his chin. Blaine had to admit, if it weren’t for the fine clothing and delicate features, he wouldn’t peg this boy for a noble, even less so a prince.

 

But when it came to Blaine, that was a compliment.

 

“Alright, come on.” The gypsy fit his arms under the prince, and picked him up on unsteady footing. Kurt ended up with his head hanging over one of Blaine’s arms, giving the gypsy a proper look at the beating his men, and woman, had given the stubborn prince. Needless to say, he had a feeling more trouble was going to come from this. Whether that was going to be for Kurt, himself, or both…he wasn’t entirely sure yet.

 

“M’sorry,” was he all he could offer up at the moment.

 

And with that, Blaine got his proper footing and carried Kurt out of the caravan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Y'all, please leave a comment, kudos, bookmark, all that lovely stuff. And hopefully I made y'all smile today. Catch ya on the next update!


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